Page 6 of A Curious Ending

Lara turned to face Abigail. ‘Is it always murder you’re involved in?’ she asked, a small catch in her voice.

Abigail rose and moved over to the window where she watched the birds in the garden in the early morning light. ‘We are linked by the pain and uncertainty that you feel,’ she said without turning around, ‘if we go down this path together we may discover murder. We may not.’ Abigail paused. ‘You also have to consider the possibility that you may uncover something you wish you had left buried.’

‘But I want to know for certain,’ Lara pleaded, ‘I think Lady Porter deserves that.’

‘Very well,’ Abigail said, turning back into the room. ‘What else would you like to know?’

‘Can I meet any of the people you’ve helped before? Betty, I think you said, or Jimmy?’ Lara enquired.

Abigail chuckled. ‘I believe they would have been delighted to meet you, but they have been dead for many years now. My detective work, as you call it, has taken place over a period of more than 190 years, since my own death at twenty-seven.’

Lara looked surprised. ‘I’m three years older than you are… were,’ she said. ‘I got the impression you were older.’ Lara looked embarrassed. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude.’

‘Not at all,’ Abigail responded pleasantly, ‘you would be amazed how murder ages one.’

Lara was about to ask another question but cut her words short and looked distractedly about her. ‘I must send Becky a text and tell her to pick up the van,’ she said. Lara reached for her phone and started tapping the screen. ‘I’ll tell her to come in a bit later than normal so we can talk in the shop.’

‘What is a text?’ Abigail asked with great interest when Lara had finished.

‘It’s a type of message,’ Lara replied slowly. ‘When exactly was it that you were last around being a…’ Lara wasn’t quite sure what to call it, ‘doing your spirit, detective, ghosty thing?’ she ended feebly.

‘July 1991,’ Abigail replied precisely. ‘I recall I was rather impressed by Take That and we went to the cinema to see the film Thelma and Louise, which I thoroughly enjoyed.’

Lara looked shaken. ‘I think you’ll find a lot has changed since 1991,’ she said kindly, if somewhat patronisingly.

‘Not as much as since 1834 I’ll wager,’ responded Abigail with the air of one clinching an argument.

‘Right, I’m ready,’ said Lara, changing the subject. ‘Could you just pass me the lists that are stuck to the fridge?’

‘No,’ Abigail said briefly.

Lara looked at her strangely. ‘Please would you pass me the lists,’ she tried again, thinking that this increasingly reminded her of her childhood.

‘No,’ said Abigail again – but interpreting the look on Lara’s face – added, ‘I would be glad to pass them to you if I could.’

‘What?’ Lara exclaimed. ‘Can’t you pick things up?’

Abigail shook her head.

Lara sat down heavily on the stool nearest to her. ‘So let’s get this straight. We are going to investigate a possible murder and you can’t lift anything, open anything, or basically move anything around?’

Abigail nodded calmly.

‘So what about walking through walls?’ Lara tried again.

‘Goodness me, no,’ Abigail said emphatically.

Lara got up and strode over to the fridge, grabbing the lists for herself. ‘But I don’t get it,’ she said with some agitation, ‘how did you get in here? And what exactly can you do to help? Or am I supposed to flounder around on my own? It’s like being thrown overboard without a life jacket.’ The more she thought about it the more worried Lara became. She continued pacing up and down the kitchen, and it was only on her third circuit that she realised Abigail had completely disappeared and that the room was empty. ‘Now what am I supposed to do?’ Lara declared to the room in general. As Lara turned back towards the window, she heard a cough from outside the back door. Lara flung open the door declaring loudly as she did so, ‘And you still haven’t told me your name!’

‘Well, it’s Barbara,’ the short plump woman standing there replied uncertainly. She then continued with more assurance, ‘But I think we’ll stick with “Mrs Sutton” if it’s all the same to you.’ Mrs Sutton, church flower arranger and local gossip, cast Lara an odd look before adding, ‘I thought I might call by to collect the lilies for the church.’

‘Lilies!’ said Lara with more force than she had intended. Mrs Sutton started and Lara tried to get a hold of herself. She said as calmly as she could, ‘That’s fine, Mrs Sutton. I’m just going over to the shop now to start unpacking the order. Come with me and I’m sure I can find your lilies for you.’

Abigail, watching from the orchard, heard Lara’s voice drifting across the frozen ground. ‘I think we’re in for a prolonged cold snap...’ Mrs Sutton’s reply was lost into the chilly air as she crunched down the path after Lara and into the shop.

By the time Abigail appeared in the flower shop, Mrs Sutton was long gone. Normally she was one of Lara’s more voluble customers, full of news of the church flower group, but this morning Mrs Sutton had been reluctant to stay and chat. Even when she had stayed to gossip, Lara never thought Mrs Sutton quite approved of her – rumours about her and Julian Armstrong maybe?

When Abigail sauntered into the centre of the shop, Lara was already halfway through unpacking the delivery of flowers that had been left there in the small hours by her wholesaler. ‘I thought you said you couldn’t walk through walls,’ Lara said, without looking up from her work.